


Giving

by justlikepagliaccis



Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Snuggling, a super early christmas fic, he just doesn't want to admit it, it's very cheesy beware, kinda OOC, roger is somft, the good stuff, this has been in my drafts for ages and now i can finally post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikepagliaccis/pseuds/justlikepagliaccis
Summary: The last thing David was expecting was Roger on his doorstep, especially during a nasty bout of snow.
Relationships: David Gilmour/Roger Waters
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Giving

**Author's Note:**

> I thought that I was being totally original by naming Roger's cat Vera, but apparently I wasn't because there's another fic on this site with the same idea, so I didn't mean to copy or steal! I'd imagine Roger giving his cats really extra names or name them after artists that he likes, hence Vera for Vera Lynn. Anyways.   
> Enjoy!   
> \- adeleine

Delicate snow was coming down in blinding curtains of white, covering the walkways within minutes. People and cars were mere specks amidst the blustery chaos, weaving around icy patches and hurrying to get to their destinations like ants scurrying about a maze. 

David was happy enough to remain inside his cozy flat and watch from frosted windows, having no intentions of going out in the mess that befell London. As fate would have it, Christmas was right around the corner, and many panicked shoppers risked frostbitten toes having to trudge to the nearest supermarket for gifts. Since David had finished his own shopping nearly two days earlier, he was content enough to sit indoors and relish in his luck. He wasn’t really a winter person. He much preferred the warm sun in the sky to bask in. 

David rarely went out later in the year when it was the coldest, and the others knew of this all too well. Recording sessions would be delayed up to two hours because of his own reluctance to show up in such bleak weather. Fortunately, sessions at Abbey Road had been few and far between that month, leaving David with the pleasure of huddling near his heater trying to absorb as much blessed warmth as he could. 

He hadn’t done much that day except for drink a few cups of tea and fool around on the guitar, but even that grew boring to him and David flicked mindlessly through the channels on his television set in hopes of finding something to entertain himself with. 

He eventually came across the local news, pausing to see if there was anything worth noting. It was the same poor sod with the same terrible hairpiece broadcasting about the same political issues and the same football teams. David didn’t linger very long.

Distantly, he wondered what Roger was doing. It was a silly thought, wondering about the same man who had cussed him out almost two weeks ago, but it became a habit that David couldn’t drop. He wasn’t holding any grudges, he never could, no matter what Roger had to say about his intelligence or his weight. Roger was both too smart and too skinny for his own good, so what would he know?

Maybe Roger was bored too. Probably sitting around reading the newspaper and ranting about the government to his cat. David smiled at the thought. He wouldn’t be the least surprised if Roger vented his frustrations to little Vera. The cat probably had the brains to become prime minister – not that it took much to begin with.

Christ, he’d been listening to Roger too much. 

Shaking his head to rid himself of thoughts of Roger as they would only hurt him in the end, David kept switching channels on the TV until he found a children’s cartoon. Bugs Bunny. He recognized the oversized gray rabbit from his youth. It was certainly better than watching whatever depressing nonsense they were reporting on the news. 

As time would have it, David grew considerably less interested in the inane exploits of Bugs as the minutes dragged on. He sipped at his steaming tea, warming his hands against the mug as his attention was drawn again to the snow piling up outside. It seemed as if it would never end. 

The swarm of people was dying down to a mere trickle due to the elements, and David couldn’t say that he blamed them. Bundling up in ten different layers of clothing to battle the icy wind and wet snow just for a few cards and toys wasn’t worth the cold he’d likely get from it. He watched the few that remained hurrying across the thoroughfares, barely recognizable as human with their collars drawn up to their ears and topped with woolen hats. 

A taller figure caught his eye, stumbling across his window against the oncoming gust of wind. His head was bowed and one of his hands flew up to pull his overcoat closer against his body. David winced in sympathy, imagining how it must’ve felt out there. But in the blink of an eye, the man was gone. He rose his eyebrows, concerned that he might’ve hallucinated the entire thing. Could it have been a ghost? David banished the thought before he spent too much time wondering about foolish unknown things. It couldn't have been a ghost! Right?

David was soon proven right as the man slowly rose to his feet right in front of his window, using the ledge as leverage against the icy slick streets. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected appearance, sloshing the tea against the rim of his cup. The poor lad had slipped and – Roger? No, it couldn’t be. 

Roger was unmistakable for anyone else. David recognized his long face; high cheekbones blushed a cherry red from the frigid air and his bangs falling into his eyes. He rose to his feet, sitting the tea down on an end table and heading for the front door. On the way, David plucked a coat from the hook in the foyer, sliding it over his sweater as added protection. 

He pulled open the door with a rush of chilly wind that kicked up snowflakes from his stoop into the hall. Just as he had figured, Roger was standing at the doorstep, raising his hand to knock. He looked shocked at the sight of David there, lips parting a fraction, oh-so tempting in their redness. 

“Rog?” David said at the same time Roger asked, “Dave?” 

“Come in, come in, it’s bloody freezing out there,” David urged, ushering Roger in with an arm around his shoulders. “I saw you fall out there. Are you alright? Didn’t pull anything important, did you?” 

Despite the overcurrent of humor, David was worriedly scanning the length of Roger’s slumped body for any signs of a twisted ankle or broken bone. Once he deemed him healthy, David took both of their jackets and hung them up. 

Roger had ducked his head, cheeks reddening for an entirely different reason. “’m fine,” he muttered, rubbing his shoulder. “My knee broke my fall.” 

David chuckled, barely disguising his concern. “I just made myself a cuppa. Would you like some? It’ll warm you right up.” 

He led them both back to his sitting room. The television was still blaring corny musical numbers along with the steady creeping of Bugs Bunny onscreen.   
“Is it that sickeningly sweet rubbish you usually drink?” Roger narrowed his eyes at him. David smiled, not put off in the slightest. He’d grown used to Roger’s biting tongue over the years. It barely fazed him anymore. 

“I’ll leave out some of the sugars, yeah? Why don’t you sit down? You can find the boring news program that I know you like so well.” David disappeared into his kitchen, not turning around to see what Roger’s response was. But the subtle sound of the sofa creaking under his weight was answer enough, and he began to pour Roger a mug of his leftover tea. 

When David returned, he was startled to see that Roger had completely fallen asleep. He hadn’t bothered to change the channel at all, even if Looney Tunes was something he would’ve considered childish drivel. Roger’s head had fallen forwards so that he was slumped over on himself, long hair damp from melted snow and still pink from the cold. It was as vulnerable as David had ever seen him. Why had he come just to fall asleep on his couch, anyway? It wasn’t like Roger to make an impromptu visit. Especially in terrible weather like this. 

David set Roger’s cup down on the coffee table for later, searching out a blanket to drape over him and turning down the volume on the television. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do. David was loath to try and wake Roger up for any sort of explanation, and it wasn’t as if he could go about his daily business with that six-foot-long beanpole passed out on his furniture. 

Just as David was about to retreat to his bedroom in search of his guitar, Roger awoke with a start, eyes as wide as dinnerplates. He wouldn’t have noticed if not for the hoarse gasp ripped from Roger’s throat, like he’d just come up for air. David froze mid-step, turning to check on him. 

He’d never seen Roger so vulnerable – so open about being seen for who he was. Did it have anything to do with David at all, or was that just wishful thinking? Maybe it was a coincidence that David’s flat happened to be the one Roger tripped in front of. Maybe this was all some horrible dream brought on by too much drugs and drink and David would wake up alone in his room with a massive hangover. 

“Rog? You alright, mate?” He inquired softly, almost afraid to interrupt whatever was running through Roger’s head. 

His fingers were raking incessantly through his hair, dragging it away from his face. Roger’s bangs were slicked back from the water, making him look far older than he really was sitting there on the sofa with dark circles and shaky hands. A war-torn soldier, in a way. One who hadn’t seen war, yet felt all of its repercussions with a sheer ferocity and depth that none of them could fully relate to. 

David was struck by a pang of fierce sympathy for Roger. He hadn’t done anything, but got punished severely by merely existing. Sure, he could be a merciless prick with no consideration for anyone else’s feelings, but in the end, it was a steely façade for the gooey core he hid from the world. David had felt the worst of Roger’s barbed words. He had also felt the gentleness of his touch, the tentative thoughtfulness in his subtle actions. 

“Fine,” Roger croaked, hands falling into his lap. “’s that…?” He gestured towards the abandoned tea on the table. 

“Yours, yeah,” David said. He passed it over to Roger who drank heartily despite the near-boiling heat. Once he’d finished, David found it in himself to finally ask, “What’s got you in such a frazzle?” 

The answering glare Roger gave him could barely be considered venomous. “I’m not in a frazzle.”

“You nearly broke your neck outside my window.”

“If you minded your own business, I wouldn’t have bothered you at all.” 

“You came knocking at my door!”

“You shouldn’t have answered!” 

David sighed, not in the mood for the back and forth. He’d been having such a peaceful morning. “Do you understand quite how irrational you’re being? Why wouldn’t you want me to answer the door?”

“Because!” Roger cried, throwing up his hands. He looked rather silly doing that while sitting down, but David kept that thought to himself. “You fucking idiot! I was – You couldn’t even let me drop off your stupid bloody present in peace! You had to be so considerate all of the sudden!” 

There was a long pause that followed, enough for David to sit in Roger’s confession. A present? Roger was on his way to deliver a gift… for him? Even after calling him a brainless guitar monkey the last time that they had seen each other? 

“Are you on something?” David rose his eyebrows in suspicion, coming closer to see if he could spot the telltale signs of coke or pills.

“Of course not! Christ – fuck – here!” Roger stood up, nearly knocking down David in the process, and patting his trouser pockets. “Shit,” he muttered. 

David held back as Roger marched over to the coat rack, angrily digging through his jacket for a few moments before returning. This time, he didn’t say anything, just thrust a little package into David’s hands and backed a good distance away. 

For an easy escape, David realized. 

He looked down at the parcel. It was about the size of his palm and immaculately wrapped in a deep blue paper. David flipped it over a few times, trying to find a place to rip it open at. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Roger shift from side to side impatiently and couldn’t resist a cheeky smile at the affect this had on him.   
Nestled inside the satiny black padding of the box was a guitar slide. It was reddish brown in color; brass. David traced the dull edges, wanting to get a feel for it. He plucked it out of its bedding and worked the slide onto his finger, trying it on for size. The delicate weight of the brass on his finger felt right, and the thickness just enough to gain a good control over the strings. 

“It’s wonderful, thank you, Roger,” he said, pleasantly surprised by Roger’s sentimentality. 

Roger had crossed his arms awkwardly, scowling but still blushing a shy pink. David eyed him in confusion, briefly distracted by the process of slipping the slide off. As he was removing it, he noticed faint markings on the inside of the hollow. David brought it close to his face, squinting to make out the words scratched onto the slide’s inner walls. 

To a brilliant guitarist and dear friend – R

“Oh,” David mumbled dumbly. He didn’t know what to say. “Well, I feel awful now. Your Christmas present isn’t half as touching as this.”

“You… got me something?” Roger said. His voice was distant. Almost as if he were talking from outside the front door. When David glanced over at him, he caught sight of a distinct brokenness in his expression. 

Hoping to remedy it, David set off to find Roger’s present that he’d stuffed in its own gift bag only a night ago. He came back brandishing a big bag patterned with gaudy cartoon snowmen.   
Instead of making a remark about David’s choice in bag, Roger stared at it like David had just given him a stack of gold bars. He touched it reverently, cautious not to destroy any bit of what was given to him. David watched on fondly, the concern of this being a figment of his imagination becoming more and more of a possibility as time wore on. 

David had gotten Roger nice woolen jumpers for the winter. There were three, two in muted colors like greys and blacks, and the third a rich burgundy.

It seemed like Roger was scrutinizing them for an age, because David finally piped up, “The red, that – that’ll bring out your eyes, won’t it?”

Roger looked up at him with an indiscernible expression. He wasn’t sure if it was shock morphing into disgust or a joke waiting to come, but Roger didn’t say anything for a few unbearably long moments. David watched him run his fingers over the fabric, dexterous and rhythmic in their movements. 

“They’re very nice, Dave.” Roger’s voice cracked, betraying the true feelings he was desperately trying to cover up under a careless façade. 

His magnificent green eyes were glassy and Roger wouldn’t look David in the face. He wanted to do something, to comfort the tortured soul in some way, but felt himself hesitating. There were a few yards between them. It felt like kilometers. 

“You must think me mad. Terribly sentimental.” He held the jumpers tight to his chest like David was going to change his mind and take them back. “Stupid,” Roger added, almost to himself. 

“’course not,” David tried, unused to comforting. He wasn’t great at verbally expressing himself, so he crossed the distance between them and laid a careful hand on Roger’s shoulder. “’s sweet. Showin’ your true colors at last, I see. I knew you were a softie deep down.” 

An instinctive barb of retort was on Roger’s lips, but he did a magnificent job of controlling himself. It seemed as if he was calming down much quicker with David’s touch. To test his theory, he smoothed his hand down Roger’s arm, watching in fascination as Roger practically melted at the contact. 

The atmosphere of the room, though already tense with emotions neither of them could place, suddenly grew heavier with expectation. David had frozen in his place, knowing that he had to proceed somehow, but unsure as to what to do. Was there actually something there or was it just David’s wishful thinking? 

Slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, Roger had begun to move. He had the height advantage between the two, but had a habit of slouching, putting him at the perfect angle to drop a kiss along the line of David’s brow. It was so quick and so soft; David could have missed it if he weren’t paying such close attention to Roger. 

“Mhm, a right sap, you are,” he teased, color rising to his cheeks. 

“Fuck off!” Roger snapped, beginning to pull away. He’d misinterpreted David’s words as rejection. 

In a blink of an eye, all of Roger’s defenses were coming back up. David recognized the rigidity of his stance and the terse expression anywhere. Afraid it was already too late to regain the vulnerable Roger that he’d lost to his own foolishness, David made sure to double up on the charm and flirtation to win him back. 

“I won’t take back the bit about you being a sap, but I will apologize for not doing this while I had the chance.” David smiled, rising up onto his tiptoes a smidgen to capture Roger’s lips in a kiss of his own. 

Roger’s response was immediate. He gave into the affection like water, nearly tripping over himself to get closer to David. If he wasn’t so focused on lavishing attention on those full lips he’d been admiring for so long, David would’ve remarked about how out of character Roger was acting. How sweet. 

He was sweet in his lack of proper experience with kissing. Roger’s first instinct was to delve right into the act without abandon, wanting to end it quickly so they could get onto new and better things. But David liked to savor his kisses. He forced Roger to take things slowly. Each swipe of his tongue or nibble of teeth was done with care and proper forethought. His end goal was a thoroughly sated and fucked out Roger, after all. 

They eventually pulled away for breath. David couldn’t resist a breathless little chuckle as they stood there breathing each other’s air, so close that their lips were only a teasing brush away from another kiss. 

Roger didn’t seem like he was going to pull away anytime soon. He’d dug his fingers in David’s hair, getting his hand tangled in the messy brown tresses. His eyes were downturned bashfully at the intimacy, unused to all of the attention. David grinned at him, heart squeezing fondly as Roger startled, as if remembering something important, and pulled away to collect the jumpers that he dropped. Once they were set safely on the coffee table, Roger returned. 

“Your fingers are like ice, love,” David remarked, lifting one of Roger’s hands to his cheek. “Come here, why don’t I warm you up?” 

Roger approached him, finding a place within David’s arms. He rested his head in the crook of David’s neck, sighing softly into his exposed skin and causing goosebumps to erupt across his arms. “Just know,” Roger said, voice muffled. “I’m forced to do this because your flat is a bloody icebox.” 

David rolled his eyes, in too good a mood to argue, and traced sweeping swirls along his shoulder blades. “Of course, Rog.” 

They spent the night dozing in bed together, hidden beneath a pile of blankets to stave off the December chill. Heated, feverish kisses faded into sleepy pecks until they passed out together, Roger propped on top of David’s chest like a cat. David wasn’t sure how the night would change their relationship, but he wasn’t inclined to worry too much. He much preferred to live in the moment. The moment with Roger’s hands cradling his ribs, his cold feet caressing his calves, and their hearts pressed together.

FIN.


End file.
